Page 8

8

“Poison hath residence”

Now

I’m on the floor in my room, sitting directly under the window that faces the park. The light is out, but the curtains are open. I can’t tell if I feel sick from the two helpings of overly sweet cheesecake I let Selby serve me or the shock of seeing Romeo in a house that looks nothing like his home with a dog that looks like Buddy but isn’t and a lover who isn’t me at his side.

I keep my face forward and shift my hips so I’m able to scoot my hands under my ass cheeks and sit on them.

I will not open the window.

I will not look out the window.

I will not wait for Romeo.

Fine, maybe I will wait for him, but I will not let him see me waiting for him and the window will stay closed. I will not open the window. I’d rather die.

A long beam of moonlight enters my window, casting a ghostly blue light on my bed. I sit and sit and sit, watching as the light slowly moves in a broad arc across my bed and my fingers throb and finally go numb.

I stay like that for ages, hours. My mind races, darting from the past to the present. From Romeo now to Romeo then. His face. His eyes. I don’t move until I’m shivering, despite the fact it’s late June and the weather is balmy.

It’s passed midnight, well into the early hours, when I finally accept defeat and raise a gnarled, cramping hand over my head and fumble with the window latch. I’m so weak and defeated by the time I do it that it takes both hands and my last reserve of energy to push the window open a crack.